Dear Ms. Malhotra,
I appreciate your timely feedback regarding my performance in the aforementioned roles. Please be advised that while I occasionally find your methods unconventional(and sometimes distracting to overall productivity), they have proven to significantly improve my morale.
Your recent initiatives—including spontaneous hugs, unsolicited hand-holding during meetings, and your smile when you think I’m not looking—are commendable and have been documented as highly effective strategies.
In light of your continued support, I am prepared to extend my commitment to this arrangement indefinitely, with the possibility of lifetime tenure.
Please also be informed that any future “brain short-circuiting” will be considered a direct result of your actions and will therefore be entirely your responsibility.
Regards,
Your boyfriend (and ex-favorite work distraction).
I hit send, leaning back in my chair, a smirk tugging at my lips.
God, what has she done to me?
A year ago, the only thing in my inbox would’ve been cold, lifeless corporate chatter.
Now? My day is split between deals, deadlines… and love letters disguised as memos.
She walks into my life and flips every rule I’d built for myself.
And I’m not even mad about it.
I glance back at my sent mail, the ridiculous formality of it sitting right there between two actual contract negotiations.
Shaking my head, I can’t stop the smile this time.
My life will never be boring again. Neither will it be colorless.
CHAPTER 61
ADITI
4 MONTHS LATER
It’s way too early for sane people to be out of bed, and yet here we are.
Or… here I am, practically dragging Abhimaan up a mountain before the sun is even properly awake.
The sky is still that deep, sleepy blue, with streaks of gold and pink starting to sneak in from the horizon. The air is cold enough to bite, but it feels clean—sharp in my lungs, almost like it’s trying to scrub the nerves right out of me. Spoiler: it’s not working. My palms are sweaty. My heart is doing cartwheels. And my brain is screaming, "Aditi, you’re insane." What if he says no?
Behind me, Abhimaan mutters under his breath for maybe the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, “Aditi, this better have a good reason.”
I can’t help it—I laugh, though it comes out a little too high-pitched. “Why? Your old ass can’t climb a mountain?”
He shoots me a flat look, even as he keeps pace with me. “I’m not old.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby,” I sing-song, trying to distract myself from the fact that my legs are burning and we’re nowhere near the top yet.
We keep climbing. It’s quiet except for the crunch of our shoes on the dirt trail and the occasional sound of our breath puffing out in the cold air. The trees around us thin out the higher we go, and finally—finally—we reach the peak.
And oh.
Oh.
The view hits me in the chest like a slow-motion punch. Below us, the world looks small, wrapped in a soft blanket of morning fog. The sun is just lifting its head over the horizon, spilling molten gold across the valley. The light makes the tips of the trees glow, like someone dipped them in honey. It’s silent—the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re the only two people alive.
